


Miranda Croft is Daddy

by praisemadamespellman



Series: Smut [3]
Category: The Flight Attendant (TV)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Boot Worship, Consensual Kink, Daddy Kink, F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy BDSM, Knives, LGBTQ Themes, Punching, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27795736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/praisemadamespellman/pseuds/praisemadamespellman
Summary: What happens when you're too thirsty for Miranda Croft.Is smut-crack a thing? Because this feels like that.WARNING: Explicit BDSM themes! Proceed with CAUTION. Do not try this at home unless you've negotiated your limits, are with someone you trust, and have a safe word! OKthxbai.
Relationships: Miranda Croft/You
Series: Smut [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959571
Comments: 22
Kudos: 25





	1. Knife Play

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment - it's the payment I deserve. ;P

I saw her brandishing the butterfly knife and I stopped in my tracks. Tossing my leather jacket to the ground (because that would take far too long to cut through) and offering the thin fabric of my linen shirt and jeans, I dove onto the pavement in front of Ms. Croft. Supplicatingly, I bared my throat; my pleading eyes begging for her blade. Instead, her boot pressed against my cheek and I inhaled deeply, the leather’s scent overwhelming me. Fighting back only enough to be able to turn my face into her boot and drag my tongue along its ridges, cleaning the city’s filth from her sole. 

“What a good girl.” The Scottish lilt and meaning of those four simple words left my panties damp. 

I whimpered, pulling the dirt into my mouth and meeting her gorgeous blue gaze as I swallowed it. Like a good girl. Miranda straightened and pressed harder, her boot crushing my cheek and forcing my head to turn, my face reflecting the ache in my jaw as the pressure continued to mount. Reaching up with tentative hands, I wrapped them around her calf and massaged lightly, suggesting she stop but also encouraging her to continue. As the pain intensifies, my nails dig into her calves, the fabric of her trouser leg getting in the way of my desire to inflict just a little bit of pain in return. My groan becomes guttural and the pressure stops but the boot remains. Opening my eyes, I’m staring at a cigarette butt and starting to consider that perhaps downtown was not the best location for me to offer myself to Ms. Croft. 

But then her knee is on my chest and my head snaps to attention, my mouth opening to loosen the jaw she just stomped on. Her scarf is tickling my face and getting in the way of being able to see her, so without thinking I reach up and pull it from around her neck; it flutters to land on my chest, an innocent bystander. Miranda’s eyebrow arches and I inhale sharply, that was a mistake. I assume it would be a bigger mistake to say anything at this point so I try to look cute, fluttering my lashes and arching my back to press my breasts into her knee as a distraction. Too late. 

The way she wields that butterfly knife sends goosebumps rushing up every inch of my skin, hardening my nipples, and causing further cascades in my pants. I whimper-giggle nervously as the blade spins in front of my eyes - she doesn’t look impressed - but then...T H E N….she holds the very tip of the blade against the hollow of my throat and time. stands. still. It feels like the prick of a needle and I’m both worried that I’m bleeding and excited to bleed for her. Slowly, her knee still pinning me to the cold, gritty cement, she drags the blade down between my collarbones, following the invitation my top-buttons-undone button up shirt left for her but she doesn’t stop there. With excruciating care, her blade leaving a thin crimson line down my flesh, she destroys every single button on my favourite linen shirt; I can hear them _pinging_ off of fire hydrants and hub caps, running for their lives. And here I am, mewling and skirming, wanting to be nowhere else but here. 

“Ma’am…. _please_.” I’m not sure where my voice came from but I almost want to give it a time out. Shut up, me, she has a KNIFE.

“Please? Please...wh-at?” She was talking with that accent but also touching me, the pad of her finger followed the scratch she’d left behind as if she were smoothing out a wrinkle and as it traveled down between my breasts, forcing my shirt to fall to either side, I shuddered.

“Please….” I swallowed, the bitter taste of dirt and ache on my cheek a reminder of her cruelty. “...please what….everyouwant.” I rushed the last bit because she was peeling my shirt away from my body and exposing me to any of the potential passersby. “Oh god.” Squeezing my eyes shut, like an ostrich that thinks if they can’t see the threat coming it mustn’t exist, I prayed no one was paying attention. Why am I getting wetter? Damn this Judas body.

The cool air felt like ice cubes on my exposed nipples and set off a cataclysmic shiver that started at the base of my neck, traveled down my spine, and settled in the apex of my thighs forcing them to raise slightly and undulate. I opened one eye to peek at Miranda, looking for the knife….which was poised at the button of my jeans. “Christ.” It was only a hiss but suddenly her gloved hand was covering my mouth. My eyes rolled back in my head at the dizzying smell of leather (...what it does to me…) and my mouth opened against it, struggling to take a breath while sliding my tongue along her palm. Cheeky. 

Too busy with the button on my jeans, Miranda wasn’t paying attention until I moved my head swiftly and grabbed her thumb with my teeth. I may have dove onto the pavement in front of her but I wasn’t about to stay there without a bit of a fight. It thrilled me to think of what she might do to me if I were to...struggle. My teeth held her thumb but instead of trying to pull it out, she surprised me by thrusting it further into my mouth, fishing at the back of my throat. Groaning wantonly, I sucked harder and swirled my tongue around the smooth leather, reaching up to grab her wrist - hoping to keep her thumb right. there. 

Somehow she’d managed to grab my chin and her thumb hooked behind my bottom teeth; in one motion, she moved her knee from my chest and yanked hard, forcing me into a sitting position as I grunted. Then she was standing and pulling me to my feet with her thumb still in my mouth. I thought about twisting out of her grasp but, as if she could read my mind, she reached down and grabbed a nipple with her other hand. I cried out. Captured. With one hand in my mouth and the other against my breast, she guided me down the street (forcing me to walk backwards) to the nearest alley and shoved me into the darkness.

I fell back against a brick wall and had no time to catch my breath before she was pressed up against me with her knife at my throat. Closing my eyes, I lifted my chin and offered it to her, my hands grabbed her waist and I thrust my hips into her, urging her to do her worst. Her blade cool against the taut tendons of my neck, she leaned in and whispered hotly in my ear; “Maybe you’re not such a good girl.”

“I can be whatever you want me to be.” The words came out with more confidence than I felt, my insides quaking. She laughed and I blushed at the thought that I amused her.

“Spread your legs.” Dreams do come true. Quickly, I moved to do as she demanded and was rewarded with a firm open-palmed _smack_ from her gloved hand on my jean-covered cunt. The force drove a sincere grunt-growl out of me and without thinking, I quickly shoved my hands against the waistband of my jeans, button already cut off, and pushed them and my panties down to my knees.

“Please...Miss...Ma’am….Miranda...m’lady?” I was stuttering, unsure of how to address her and desperate with need. “...m’lady? What century are we in, amirite? I - UGNNNNNOOOFFFFF!” She hit me again, very effectively shutting me up, and sending a fury of pleasurepain radiating from my center outwards. My breath came in gasps and I grabbed at the bricks, digging my fingers in as I slowly straightened back up and thrust my hips out, begging for more.

The fifth smack both sent me over the edge and drove me to my knees. Shuddering through an orgasm on all fours at her feet, I felt compelled to rest my cheek on her boot. Hello old friend. When she reached down to fist my hair and drag me back to my feet, I couldn’t keep my smile from beaming; “My my, you are a glutton for punishment, aren’t you?” She purred like a Scottish kitten. 

“Yes, Ma’am!” I puffed my chest out like a proud peacock and made a big show of spreading my thighs again. At the ready, her little soldier.

She steps back (is she leaving?) and I’m almost about to pout until I see her foot swing back behind her and then I brace myself. Palms flat against the brick wall, my breath held, my head turned to the side (I can’t watch), and my eyes squeezed shut. When the flat top of her boot connects with my pelvis I immediately crumple to the ground but she steps into me and I’m left kneeling on her boot.

“Ride it, slut.” 

I look up at her from below and she’s idly playing with her knife, twirling it, snapping it opened and closed, tapping it loudly against her gloved palm. Dear God, I’m about to lose my mind. Wrapping my arms around her leg, pressing my face into her thigh, my hips start to grind. Back and forth, riding her boot like a good girl, smearing it with the evidence of my relentless desire. As I’m rocking against her, she arches her foot and brings the toe of the boot up and into my slick hole; with a gasp I grind down, taking it as far as it will go, my hips moving on their own accord. 

“Oh god...I-....” I’m too far gone. “May I please cum?” It felt right to ask permission.

Suddenly the boot was gone and replaced by her fingers grabbing tightly onto my labia, pinching and pulling at the handful; “No.”

Whimpering and squirming, the pain mixing so deliciously with the pleasure, I took that moment’s reprieve to look deeply into her eyes as she crouched in front of me and busied herself with my sopping wet folds. Gritting my teeth, I tried to stop the rising ebb and flow of desire as the waves started to crest but it was no use and my body betrayed me once more. As I came, Miranda held my gaze intensely with a slowly rising brow. _Oh fuck._ My chest heaved in the aftermath and my heart pounded in anticipation of her reaction to my insubordination. The hand between my legs disappeared but before I could relax, she was holding my leg still with one hand and driving her other fist into the tender area of my inner thigh. 

“FUUUUUUCCKKKKK.” I couldn’t hold it in, the feeling was unlike anything. The violence was both jarring and undeniably sexy; the drag down dirtiness of being punched sent my endorphins soaring even as my fight or flight response kicked in. I felt my hand form a fist but I shook it out, panting. “Do it again.” I growled, shoving my face in hers, feeling emboldened by the pain and rush of happy chemicals.

She held her fist against the rising red mark of her previous punch, grinding her knuckles into the bruises that were already beginning to form, forcing a loud whimper out of me; then she hauled back and drove forward with another punch in the exact same location. Then in one fluid motion she was driving her body onto me and shoving me onto the ground, her hand on my mouth again as two gloved fingers thrust into me. She fucked me hard as the hand on my mouth gripped my face, leaving fingerprints behind, and I fucked back, my hips bucked wildly...wantonly. 

“Cum, NOW.” She barked her order in my ear, making my head ring, then she sank her teeth into my cheek and the pleasurepain once again sent explosions through my body, at her command. Then her hand slid out of me and off of me, replaced by her mouth on mine, biting my lip and leaving a bruise behind that would stand out for the next three days. 

“Good girl.” I watched as she stood, a useless puddle on the ground, unable to move. Watched as she took that butterfly knife and carved her phone number lightly into my still shaking thigh. The red scratches quickly becoming welts, easy enough to read if I so chose...to follow up.

And then - just like that - she was gone.


	2. Middle of Nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miranda Croft picks you up and takes you to the middle of nowhere for some sexy torture times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Guns, violence, consensual non-consent type sexy times. Don't ever do this at home. Periodt.

My heart was pounding in my chest as I walked up to the car. After my first encounter with Ms. Croft, I immediately copied her number into my phone, even at the expense of flashing some innocent passersby, but it took me a month to use it. I kept chickening out. Memories of her gloved hands on my body (in my body), her eyes piercing my soul, the weight of her against me….stilled my hand each time. When I finally gathered the courage, she answered before the first ring had even finished and I gasped in surprise as she addressed me by name. _How does she know my fucking name?_ She gave me an address and told me to meet her there the next day. 

Which is today. 

The address she gave me was a street corner and I stood there for a good fifteen minutes, feeling a bit like a sex worker on the prowl - which was probably the point - until a car across the street rolled down its tinted window and my eyes fell on The Gloves but it is the eyes beckoning me to join her. I considered prostrating myself in front of her bumper, lying my body across the street and refusing to move until she slowly rolled over me, a Russian Roulette of will I survive this vs. if I die, I’ll have been killed by Daddy Croft. I know. My mind is a minefield of twisted perversions. Help.

“Umm….have you been here this entire time?” I almost pouted as I slid up to the passenger door, unable to look her in the eye as I felt my skin flush heatedly. The sound of the locks snapping in place, keeping me out, sounded like a bullet sliding into the chamber. She completely ignored my question, which was entirely appropriate and exactly what I expected from her, and instead she tossed her head in a way that sent her thick dark mane cascading over her shoulder and those gloved hands gripped the wheel even harder. 

I shifted nervously, looking around to see who was bearing witness to my misery and humiliation, imagining everyone nearby was snickering at this point. At the girl leaning up against the passenger window, negotiating her price. Biting my lip, I tried the door one more time, her silence making me sweat. Nope. Still locked. I tried being polite; “May I come in? ....Ma’am…?”

The locks sprung up and I exhaled loudly, quickly opening the door and jumping into the front seat before she changed her mind, muttering my thanks. She peeled out of that parking spot like she was escaping the cops and I gripped the door handle for dear life, my eyes growing wide as she swerved in and out of traffic, turning on the highway away from the city. One of those gloved hands moved gracefully through the air, palm upturned, to land in front of me; “Give me your phone.” Fishing in my tiny backpack, I pulled it free and placed it in her hand only to watch her toss it out her window in one swift movement. My jaw dropped. _Oh shit shit shit. I’m probably going to beg to be murdered today._

“So….how was your...umm...day?” I swallowed, trying to navigate the dichotomy of my anxiety and arousal - a wild ride - a mindfuck that left me fearful and...wet. 

Miranda simply glanced my way, then her eyes settled back on the road, and my jaw began to ache from grinding my teeth in anticipation. When she squealed to a stop on a blind corner, I began to panic a bit; she turned into the opposite lane, playing chicken with the future traffic, and I closed my eyes, grimacing, as a car came up over the hill. Quickly, she reversed, it passed, and I nearly passed out. Then she continued on in the direction we came as my heart hammered in my chest, to a dirt road we’d passed only a moment before, and turned onto it. 

She stopped in the middle of nowhere, threw the car in park, and leaned over to open my door. Somehow I simultaneously pressed into the seat to avoid her and arched my back in an attempt to press into her; the scent of cloves and tobacco wafted through the air as I leaned closer to her hair then snapped back innocently as she straightened. Motioning to the open door, she dismissed me; “Get out.” 

“Oh.” I was already in the car, in the middle of nowhere, without my phone, what could possibly happen? I got out of the car, she pulled the door closed, and drove off. _Well. Fuck._ Stunned, I stood there for what felt like hours but was more like ten minutes. Swaying back and forth in my little white sundress with bright red lipstick and cat eyeliner, holding my backpack in front of me, my sandals getting dusty. I began to wonder if I should have worn more appropriate footwear like hiking boots or running shoes. (Or stilettos so I couldn’t actually go anywhere very quickly and it would be easier for Miranda to tackle me to the ground…..)

The shrill sound of ringing jarred me from my reverie and I spun around. Walking towards the sound, I discovered an old school flip phone - the kind that only has T9 texting capabilities - in the bushes. With a blink, I flicked it open and held it to my ear; “I want you naked when I get back.” Her voice washed over me and I felt moisture pooling between my legs.

“Yes. Ma’am. But when will you- ” Miranda hung up and I made the executive decision to hurry up and get naked to decrease the likelihood that she would return and find me still clothed. A perfectionist, I made sure my sandals were perfectly placed next to my open backpack, then I pulled my dress off, folded it, and laid it on top of my sandals. The moment they hit the fresh air, my nipples hardened and elicited a quiet groan from me, my body replying in earnest. Hooking my thumbs into my underwear, I bent in half and slid them slowly over my ass, imagining Miranda was watching, rolling my lips and hissing as my thighs rubbed together, slick with what she does to me. 

The phone vibrated with a sharp sound, dropping my underwear on top of my dress, I picked up the phone and flicked it open: _Put those in your mouth._ My eyes widened and I spun around, looking in every direction. Cursing as the predictive text made texting back a challenge; I didn’t get a chance to respond before I received another one: _NOW._ I dropped the phone as if the text had been a fist connecting with my flesh and bone, scooped my panties up and shoved them in my mouth, standing straight and lifting my chin - showing off how good of a girl I could be.

When Miranda finally returned, I was just about to give up, shifting uncomfortably under the heat of the sun, the panties in my mouth had sucked up all the moisture, leaving me wanting to cough. Beads of sweat travelled slowly down my neck, between my breasts, and pooled in my belly button, making me squirm. Miranda stopped the car several feet away, facing me, and revved the engine. My knees went weak but I straightened proudly, pulling my shoulders back and thrusting my chest out like a challenge. _Do it. Hit me._ Clasping my hands behind my back and spreading my legs in a powerful yet submissive stance, I closed my eyes and waited for the impact. The car roared to life; I was able to count to three before I felt the dirt and pebbles spew out from under it, spitting violently at my naked flesh, as it came to a screeching halt an inch from hitting me. My knees buckled and I fell forward onto the hood of the car, panties falling from my mouth as I gasped for breath, adrenaline rushing through me.

“I told you to put those in your mouth.” Her voice was menacing but with a hint of amusement. 

Quickly, I shoved the panties back in my mouth, pushed myself off the car, and turned around, barely able to swallow from the lack of saliva in my mouth. And that bitch....she was drinking fucking pink lemonade, my favourite drink, - with ice - her lips pursed around that red and white straw obscenely. Miranda stepped into my space, tilting the straw my way, mocking me with the fresh scent of summertime, then she grinned, sucked some lemonade into the straw, put her finger over the top and yanked the straw out. Her gloved hand was shockingly tender as she pushed me back onto the hot hood of the car, the metal burning against my flesh as she held the straw over my body and released the sticky sweet lemonade onto my chest. Feeling each tiny splash as if it were acid, my body responded in kind and shivered, accepting the iciness.

The heat of the car against my back had me rocking from one shoulder blade to the other, arching my back to keep it off of the hood, lifting my hips to (literally) save my ass. Miranda continued her slow torture with the straw...s u c k...finger on top…..d r i p p i n g. My body twisted and arched towards the cool liquid, begging to be as drenched in it as I was in sweat, a reprieve from the burn. Unable to voice my needs, all I could muster with the dry fabric in my mouth were whimpered moans. My attention was pulled between the lemonade draining and the look of pure joy on Miranda’s face at my discomfort. 

Peeling the lid from the cup, Miranda brought it to her lips and pulled an ice cube into her mouth. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked the lemonade from it then dropped it into her hand; my eyes closed, anticipating what she was about to do with that ice. I hissed in surprise when she spread my legs roughly, then slowly dragged the ice from the inside of my knee, up my inner thigh, to melt against the fire at the apex of my thighs. Miranda’s deft fingers thrust the remainder of the ice cube inside me, the frozen piece melting quickly to run down my thighs and dripping onto the ground. 

Whimpering, I opened my eyes to see her fishing out a larger piece of ice, sucking it clean, she didn’t even bother with teasing pleasantries before shoving it into me and slapping the palm of her gloved hand against my cunt with a growl, “Don’t let that come out now, poppet.”

Her words forced me to slam my thighs shut and clench hard, the ice within me cold and slippery, the sensation awakening nerves I didn’t know I had. My clit throbbed as I gasped, eyeing the cup with two more cubes within; “May I have...can you please….” I motioned pathetically at the ice, wanting more, too embarrassed to ask and admit it.

Miranda laughed, “Go on then.” She thrust the cup into my hands, “I’m not here to do your bidding girl.”

My cheeks burned but I didn’t dare hesitate now that she’d given me the cup. Quickly, I pulled the ice cubes out, one at a time, and inserted them, squirming and hissing as the cold felt like it was on fire. Before I could press my thighs closed, Miranda’s hand was cupping my cunt, her thumb pressing hard lazy circles against my clit. She pressed her body against mine, her purple trench coat brushing roughly against my hard nipples as her breath disturbed the fine hairs on my neck in its path to get to my ear, “Don’t you dare stain my gloves, bitch.”

I was trapped. I couldn’t escape the cold within me, or the persistent thumb against my clit. My eyes rolled back into my head and I began to buck and grind against the flat of her palm. It was impossible to keep my hips still and I didn’t want to. I felt the ice melting, oozing out of me in liquid form, forcing Miranda to snatch her hand back. Panting and aching, I was ready to beg for mercy when Miranda stepped back and took a sip of the lemonade she’d stolen back from me. 

“Would you like a sip, pet? You look a little…..flushed.” She raised one brow and my knees finally gave out, sliding to my knees, panting, I gasped and coughed as Miranda yanked my panties out of my mouth and threw them aside. Giving me only a moment to inhale a breath into my parched throat before she fisted my hair and wrenched my head back and poured the entire contents of the glass into my mouth. Choking and sputtering, I tried to swallow as fast as I could, my eyes watering as my cunt throbbed from her cruelty. 

Lemonade spilled out of my mouth and onto the ground, Miranda’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared; “What a waste!” She raised her hand and quickly backhanded me, sending me sprawling out in the dirt with a grunt. 

Tasting blood in my mouth, I grinned. Shaking with adrenaline and primal hunger, I thrust my hand into my backpack then drove my body into her legs with full force. Miranda tumbled to the ground, the lemonade dashed on the ground, and immediately brought her hand to the gun in her hip holster out of habit. But I was already on top of her, my naked wet thighs squeezing her ribs, my knees driving into her forearms, pinning her to the ground and pointing my small Diamondback DB9 9mm pistol at her. Trying to look like a badass, I spat blood on the ground next to her cheek triumphantly. 

Miranda sneered, “What are you going to do with that, hmm?” 

I realized she had a point - I had no idea. I just got off on the idea that I completely took her by surprise, in this moment, and that I was finally on top. Grinning like an idiot, I shrugged, and considered pistol whipping her just to see how hot a split lip would look on that face. Lost in that image, I barely registered that she was bringing her hips up and then, all of a sudden, I was flying over her head. I landed with a grunt, closing my eyes against the dirt that flew up into them, and was reaching for my pistol when she kicked it out of my grasp. I turned around and saw her training her much bigger gun on me.

“Get up.” _Fuck._ I got to my feet and she motioned with the barrel of the gun towards the rear of the car. “Move to the trunk.”

With a click of a button on her keychain, the trunk popped open and she nodded, barking her commands; “Get in.”

I hesitated and her voice got lower as she flicked the safety off and pointed the gun between my eyes. _Why am I so fucking wet right now?!_ “Get. In.”

Crawling into the trunk, I laid on my back and looked up at her with wide eyes. Had I gone too far? Holding her gun on me, she moved to pick up mine. She released the clip and dropped the magazine into her hand, six rounds plus one in the pipe, then she shoved the magazine back in, swung her hand out and fired three shots in a row. The sound shocked my system and I curled up in fetal position, covering my ears and squeezing my eyes shut. 

Unfurling slowly when Miranda started to laugh, “You’re soaking wet, aren’t you?”

Choking back a whine, I nodded with a pathetic look on my face, my thighs naturally falling open as if to say _See? I am._ Miranda leaned over the trunk and trailed my pistol’s muzzle down my chest with enough pressure, it left a red scratch on my soft skin. Whimpering, dizzy with need and lacking any impulse control, I reached down to touch myself. The smile that brought out of her inspired another wave of desire to send shudders of pleasure through me. 

My fingers moved faster against my clit until Miranda grabbed them and pulled my hand away, releasing the pistol’s magazine against my chest, she put the gun in my hand, “Use this.” I stared at her and she met it with intensity, “I want you to fuck yourself with your own gun.”

A cry escaped me and I arched my back, spreading my legs even further apart, rubbing the barrel against my clit while she watched still holding me hostage with her gun as we both pretended like I had no choice but to do as she said, rather than the reality that I could have chosen not to get in her car in the first place. I was so slick the gun’s muzzle slid easily into my cunt and I held her intense gaze as I fucked myself with the gun. My hips rocked and gyrated to meet it while I cursed myself for choosing such a small pistol. Miranda had been toying with me for hours now and I came hard in a matter of seconds.

“Good girl.” That Scottish accent and those words sent another orgasm quaking through me as I drove the gun harder into my cunt. “Stop.”

I stopped and Miranda took the pistol away. I realized I’d closed my eyes at some point and I opened them in time to see her palm the magazine back into the gun. Then, with her eyes holding mine, she slowly inserted the gun again; “Careful now, pretty poppet.” 

I held very still as she slid the barrel in and out at an excruciatingly slow pace. I felt her finger against my thigh as she moved it to the trigger. Without thinking, I reached down and grabbed her wrist, suddenly afraid that maybe I was in serious trouble. She smiled and winked at me, I felt some relief at that casual signal and let my hand fall away. When she pulled the trigger I felt all of the air leave my body and forgot to breathe for several moments, waiting for the pain to accompany the click, waiting for blood. The realization that nothing happened forced my eyes down to my chest where I counted the seven bullets she’d pulled out of the magazine without me realizing it. She’d scrambled my brain so effortlessly, I wasn’t thinking straight. Panting, I met her icy blue eyes and came again as she thrust the barrel even deeper, the orgasm a culmination of fear, relief, and primal desire leaving me shaking and soaked. 

Miranda pulled the gun out of me and left it on the floor of the trunk, then she straightened and with one last look at the mess she’d made in the trunk, she slammed the lid closed. As we drove, the events that had unfolded played back in my mind, scrambled like eggs, I felt high - like I was floating above my body. My skin sticky with sweat, lemonade, and sex. I felt thoroughly used. Every bump on the road drove the hard metal of the trunk into my bones, leaving bruises behind, a physical manifestation of the afternoon. 

When the car stopped, I heard movement and then a few minutes later, the trunk popped open. Blinking against the light, I held my hand over my eyes and looked around. I was in a random parking lot, my clothes and backpack were placed on the cement in front of me - laid out exactly as I had placed them in the middle of that nowhere back there. Easing myself out of the car, I quickly got dressed then looked around for Miranda.

But just like that - she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> This style was fun but so out of my comfort zone - how did it read? LOL


End file.
